


Sweet

by Severina



Category: True Blood
Genre: Community: prompt_in_a_box, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7827676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long night at work, Sookie is only thinking of going home and soaking her sore feet. Then Eric shows up at Merlotte's. With flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's prompt_in_a_box community for the prompt 'night'. Post Marnie's death in S4, the rest of the season never happened la la la
> 
> * * *

It had been a long night.

Not only did the entire Lutheran Evangelical Choir show up at Merlotte's after the regional championships – they came in third, and if you think that they didn't drown their sorrows in pitchers of Coors Light just because they're a church group you are sadly mistaken – but then Jane Bodehouse spewed up about ten whiskey sours and Lafayette's special Nachos Salsa Supreme all over the bathroom floor and who got to clean that up? Three guesses and the first two don't count. 

By the time the last of the customers (Mickey Hanson and his brother Titus, both croonin' a version of _The Old Rugged Cross_ that definitely wasn't going to send anybody home to Jesus) stumbled out of the door, the only thing I wanted to do was get home so I could soak my sore feet in a tub of hot water in blessed silence. Those Lutheran warblers keep up a mighty big chatter in their heads too, and a lot of it ain't exactly filled with Christian charity.

I was bent over and refilling the salt shakers, kind of half listening as Arlene and Terry made weekend plans and Holly quizzed Sam about whether her house would be ready before Christmas, when everything went dead quiet. The 'dead' part should have been a giveaway, but for the first few seconds I was just thankful that everybody had shut up. After a moment, though, I looked up to see why everyone had suddenly buttoned their lips and… 

There was Eric. 

Standing in the doorway.

With flowers.

I let the salt shaker I was holding drop down onto the table, spilling about half what I'd just filled in the process. I think that's supposed to bring bad luck, but after maenads and witches and serial killers I figure my luck's gotta be due for an upswing no matter how much salt I spill. I crossed over to him, feeling all light and airy inside. Okay, my feet still hurt, but I felt _mostly_ light and airy, and I knew that I was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Hey," I said, "what are you doin' here?"

"I've come to escort you home," he said.

If he noticed that everybody in the room was staring daggers at him, he gave no sign of it. He just stood there, looking tall and handsome and completely aloof until you noticed his eyes which were soft and warm and only for me, and that was just fine 'cause I couldn't look away from him either. I finally managed it by blinking down at the bouquet in his hand. "And you… brought me flowers?"

"Is that not what lovers do?"

_Lovers_. I tried to cover up the awkward little thrill that word gave me by shrugging and tugging at my hem. I don't think he was fooled, and the goofy smile on my face didn't help much. "Well sure," I said, "on Valentine's Day or when a guy did somethin' stupid that he wants to make up for. Not usually on a… Tuesday."

"Oh," Eric said. He frowned down at the bright blooms in his hand, then raised his gaze back to me and lifted a brow. "I guess I should just throw these out then." 

"Don't you dare!" I said with a laugh, making a grab for them before he could make good on his threat. He smiled when I stuck my nose right in the middle of them, inhaling deeply. Jasmine and lavender and lilac, and they reminded me of summer days working in the garden with Gran, and lemonade on the porch, and the sunlight on my face. Nobody'd ever brought me flowers before. "They're beautiful," I told him. 

"They pale before you," he bent over to say softly before straightening. "Are you ready to go?"

Any other time I'd just ask Holly or Arlene to finish my end of shift prep, but since there hadn't been a peep out of the room since Eric had walked in the door I didn't want to push my luck. Last thing I needed was Arlene gettin' all squealy and squirrelly. "I'll just be five minutes. Ten, tops," I told Eric. "Sit and wait for me?"

"Of course," he said.

I shoved the flowers back into his arms – I was maybe a little flustered – and walked with him over to the bar. He set the bouquet on the counter and leaned one elbow against the polished wood – I'd done the wiping down myself, so I know there wasn't a speck of spilled beer left behind – and for the first time since he arrived he looked around him at something that wasn't… well… me. He nodded slightly to Arlene, who closed her mouth and made a little 'eep' sound before turning her attention back to her ketchup bottles, and then his gaze flicked to the little pass-through into the kitchen.

He nodded again. "Lafayette," he said.

Lafayette didn't 'eep', but he did flinch and fade quickly back toward the freezer. 

Eric glanced at me when I put my hand on his arm. "It's gonna take some time," I said. There was a lot of history between them, and some of it I wasn't even sure about, but I certainly wasn't going to expect Lafayette to forgive and forget overnight. Or maybe ever. He just didn't know Eric the way I did. Maybe I could host a little evening social?

"Bar's closed," Sam said gruffly before I could muse on that.

"I'm not ordering," Eric answered, not rising to the bait. He didn't even sneer. "I'm just waiting for Miss Stackhouse."

"Like I said, bar's closed," Sam repeated. "Staff only. You can wait outside."

"Well that must be a brand new rule, Sam Merlotte," I said, "since Andy Bellefleur's standin' right over there at the pool table waitin' on Holly."

For his part, Sam did look a little ashamed of himself at that. "Sook—"

"It's all right," Eric interrupted. "I can wait outside."

"No," I said firmly. I know my hand on his arm didn't really do anything to keep him there, but he stayed put anyway when I turned to Sam. "Now I know you're not asking my boyfriend to wait outside just because he's a vampire—"

"A vampire! He's a—"

"—because that would not only be rude, it would also be prejudiced and discriminatory. And possibly against the law. And that's not like you, Sam, regardless of what's happened in the past." Sam glared at me, but he also slumped his shoulders and huffed out a breath so I knew I won. I squeezed Eric's arm and said, "I'll be as quick as I can."

I hurried back to the condiment bar, and I thought the silence was gonna just drag on and on, but then Terry started telling Holly about the extra time he was willing to put in to get her house in order so her and the boys could get back there before the holidays. I shot him a grateful look, and smiled at Holly when she did her best to sound pleasant in return, bless her, but from the grunts Sam was giving I didn't have to look around to know he was still glowering at Eric. I took a breath and bent to my work and wished that I had a little of that vamp-speed that Eric and Bill took for granted. And since I figured no-one was paying me any mind, I took a pinch of that spilled salt and tossed it over my shoulder.

Better safe than sorry.

* * *

"Well," I said, tucking the flowers under my arm and looking from Eric's sleek sports car to my faithful little beater, "I guess you can follow me home."

"Mine is more comfortable," he said. "Leave yours. Ride with me."

"I need my car," I protested. "You might be able to sleep all day, but some people have errands to run."

Of course, I could always run my errands in Eric's 'vette. I could just picture myself tooling around Bon Temps with the top down, sunglasses on and the wind in my hair. 

… And getting stared at. Hearing the thoughts in everyone's heads at the post office and the grocery store, about how I was full of myself and turning into a blood whore for some 'vampir' and his cool ride. 

Yeah, maybe that's not the best idea.

"I can have someone drive it home for you."

I blinked back to the present. "You mean like a… lackey? You have people that do that? Just run around doing errands for you while you're…" _Dead to the world_ sounded kind of tacky, so I let the thought trail off. 

"Every vampire has day-men who take care of things like this. I'll have Martin come by and drive your car home for you. It will be at your house when you awaken tomorrow," Eric said patiently. I guess I must have been looking kind of confused, because the corner of his mouth turned up. "You didn't think I relied completely on _Ginger_ , did you?"

"No, of course not," I lied. Honestly, I'd been wondering when that woman ever slept. I shook my head. "But you can have Martin drive _your_ car home. I plan to get up pretty early for those errands."

I stared him down, even though I was smirking. I'd maybe give in eventually, but the thought of Eric contorting his body and folding his long, long legs into the passenger seat of my little Honda Civic was kind of irresistible so I held my ground as long as I could. The fact that he actually broke first shocked the heck out of me. I tried not to gloat too much as he finagled his way into the passenger seat of my little car. It was actually the second time I'd ever driven him anywhere, but the first time he'd been all confused and pathetic and I couldn't really enjoy the spectacle. 

He made the call to have 'Martin' retrieve his car while he sat hunched over with my flowers in his lap and I did my best not to giggle. From what he said, I surmised that his lackey was going to show up within the hour. I guess he didn't feel real comfortable leaving such an expensive car in Merlotte's dirt lot, especially when he wasn't everyone's favourite vampire. You key some ol' boy's truck and you might get your teeth smashed in; you key the ride of a one thousand year old vampire and you might get… well, best not to think about that. 

I'd think people would be smart enough to leave Eric Northman's car alone. But then I remembered the people who live in Renard Parish and… well…

I stole another glance at Eric as I made the final turn into my driveway and pressed my lips together to stop another fit of giggles.

"You're finding this entirely too amusing," he finally said.

"No," I answered, though I was still grinning. "I think you're sweet, that's all."

Eric hunched his shoulders and turned his head to stare out the passenger window. "Don’t tell Pam," he said.

* * *

I'd planned to head straight to the kitchen and start filling up the bucket with warm water and Epsom salts, but one glance at the comfy old sofa in the sitting room had me detouring there instead. I set the flowers beside me and flopped down with a groan while Eric followed me slowly, his head cocked to one side. Sometimes he looked at me like I was some kind of exotic animal. I guess to him I kind of was. It could be pretty intoxicating or pretty disconcerting depending on the circumstances.

Now, his brow furrowed. "You're hurt," he said.

I lifted a shoulder and then winced – those Lutherans are hefty drinkers and lugging pitchers gets kind of wearying after a while. "Just sore," I told him.

His fangs immediately popped out with a little _chink_ and he raised his wrist to his mouth.

"No," I said quickly. When he hesitated, I gave him an apologetic smile. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I'm not sick. Just… my feet are sore from standing on them all day and my shoulder is twinging some. I'll feel better once I soak in some hot water."

I moved to push myself off the sofa to fetch the bucket, but before I could do more than wiggle against the cushions Eric had already slid his fangs away, sat down beside me, removed my sneakers and socks, and tipped me back so my bare feet were in his lap. I have to admit that my first instinct was to pull away – because boy oh boy, after a long day at work my feet were not exactly as fresh as a spring morning and it was a little embarrassing – but then his thumb found my instep and I just moaned in ecstasy instead.

"Good?"

In reply, I arched my back like a cat. He grinned over at me at that before turning his full attention back to my aching foot. If he kept it up I'd be purring in a few minutes. By the time he started in on my left foot I was feeling loose as the apron strings on a dairy maid. "Better than good," I finally said.

Eric dipped his head toward me. "I studied with a master in Luang Phrabang," he said. The expression on my face must have shown him that we didn't learn about that one in my single ninth grade geography class, because he added, "What you call Laos now."

I wondered how long ago that had been, for Laos to have been called something else entirely. I was almost afraid to ask – we just had never talked about that stuff. 'That stuff' being the fact that he was over a thousand years old and had seen things and done things that I probably couldn't even dream of (and of course, some things that – if I _did_ think of them – would probably only show up in my nightmares.) It was complicated. "When was that?"

He lifted a shoulder, concentrating more on the pad of my foot than the question. "Perhaps… the mid eighteenth century. King Thao Ang had many interesting diversions in his court."

I slumped back on the cushions, feeling a little winded. And intrigued. And weirdly excited.

"Have you known many kings?"

"No."

Now my curiousity was peaked. "Have you known many famous people?"

"No."

"Oh."

I guess I couldn't keep the disappointment completely out of my voice, because he set my foot aside and looked over at me. "I had a brief encounter with Mozart," he said.

"Really?" All I knew about Mozart was what I had learned from watching 'Amadeus' a few years back on TV with Tara, but it was still a pretty cool revelation. I sat up, tucking my now deliciously comfortable feet beneath me. "What was he like?"

"He… liked animals," Eric said after a long moment. "I remember that he had a dog." When I giggled, Eric cocked his head questioningly. "What's amusing?"

"Nothing. You." I pressed a hand to my lips though it did little to muffle the sound. " _He had a dog_!" 

"I've met many people in my life, Sookie," he said. "One impoverished musician does not stand out among the rest."

"I know," I said. I was still smiling, even though he actually looked a little peeved at my reaction. But when I crawled over to straddle his lap his big hands came up to rest on my hips and his thumbs teased at the hem of my T-shirt so I knew I was pretty easily forgiven. "You're just—"

"Sweet?" He said it like was a curse word.

"There's nothing wrong with being sweet, Eric Northman," I scolded. I carded my fingers through his hair the way he liked; the way that made his shoulders relax and his head dip back. From there it was easy to plant a kiss on his neck. "Or nice," I said. Another kiss, this time on his collarbone. "Or kind."

"Would fucking you until you scream my name be considered nice and kind?"

"Such language, Mr. Northman," I said. " 'Making love' would be what a gentleman would do with a lady."

"Aaah, but I'm not a gentleman, Miss Stackhouse," he said. In one eye-blink he had me on my back on the sofa, his body stretched over me. His fangs extended with an audible _snick_ that made me shiver from my eyebrows down to my freshly massaged toes. "I'm a vampire." 

"And I'm… I'm crushing your flowers."

The look on his face was so confused that I had to laugh. He tugged me back into a sitting position, and I reached behind me to rescue the unfortunate flowers. The lilacs and rose lilies didn't fare so well after being smothered by one skinny barmaid and one oversized Viking.

"I'll get you more," he said, plucking long fingers at the crushed petals. "Tomorrow."

"No. It was the thought that mattered," I said. I buried my nose in the tattered blooms. "And they still smell nice."

" _You_ smell nice," he said, and bent to nuzzle against my neck. 

I opened my mouth to call him a big fat liar, because when you've been marinating in beer and Lafayette's special salsa sauce all night there is no way you come out of that smelling like a rose. But then he lowered me slowly to the sofa, and his hand dipped beneath my T-shirt to splay against my stomach and his tongue did that thing behind my ear that made me arch and pant, suddenly unable to fully catch my breath. And then I didn't care what we called it, I just wanted it. Now. Immediately. 

I did manage to toss the poor little bouquet toward the coffee table, though.

* * *

I woke up with a start. Light was flooding the bedroom and my eyes still felt gritty with lack of sleep. My head shifted on the pillow, but Eric was of course long gone. I had a vague memory of him waking me to kiss me good-bye before he snuck away before dawn, and my fingers crept to my lips. I couldn't help smiling.

Then I flopped back and squinted into the sunlight. It was my day off which meant it was too early to be awake – even though I did have those errands to run – especially since I had plans to spend the night at Eric's. I should still be sleeping, not—

The loud banging on the front door had me sitting up again in bed, and I realized that it was the second time I'd heard it. I hurriedly threw on a robe and stuck my feet into a pair of slippers and dashed down the stairs before whoever-it-was could leave. If they were gonna wake me from a sound sleep I was at least going to know who was responsible. And possibly give them a piece of my mind.

The delivery guy looked all of sixteen, though, and had a very unfortunate case of acne. He also had never seen a woman in a short satin robe before, and his thoughts on that were – well, I shut them down as soon as I got a glimpse. I'd think worse of him, but I _do_ remember being a teenager. Hormones are not pretty.

"Delivery for Miss Stackhouse?" he croaked out.

"That's… wow," I said. "That's me."

I had to step back out of the way before he could maneuver the bouquet of flowers into the hallway and through to the sitting room. 

I found my purse and tipped the delivery boy a couple of dollars, deliberately ignoring his thoughts about my bosom that were coming through loud and clear, then sent him on his way and stood back and shook my head. Could an inferno of blooms two feet high and two feet wide still be considered a bouquet? Whatever you want to call it, within a few minutes they filled the house with the scents of summer – of lying out on long hot days under the sun, grass between my toes, the rumble of bees as they busied themselves in the blooms.

It was heavenly.

A closer look showed that the flowers were arranged in a large wicker basket, and some concerted digging found the card. 

_Not a single bloom is as fresh and pure as you,_ I read. _Eric_.

"See?" I said aloud in my empty house. The delivery guy still fiddling with his clipboard and money belt on the porch gave me a weird look, but I didn't care. I couldn't stop smiling if someone offered me a million dollars. "You're sweet, Eric Northman. Don't even try to deny it."

I decided I would wear one of the blossoms in my hair tonight. And another, more artfully concealed, that he could discover when I showed him how much I appreciated his romantic gestures. 

I'd even keep my mouth shut around Pam. I could be pretty sweet myself.


End file.
